


I Can Move Forward Looking Back

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Defense, Tied-Up Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam goes on a hunt with another hunter.  </p><p>It ends up not being the thing they're after that he has to worry about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Move Forward Looking Back

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Oh Sam prompt meme.

Bobby had vouched for the guy, and that had been enough.

Enough for Dean to, albeit grudgingly, hand his brother off to Penman even as he gave the other hunter a look that promised painful drawn out death if he didn’t look after him.

Enough for Sam to roll his eyes once he knew Dean was looking at him again, before he got into Penman’s SUV and they roared out of the scrap yard.

Bobby had fucking promised the guy was as straight down the centre as they came, so why Sam was now on his stomach, hands tied behind his back, he had no idea.

Penman was pacing backwards and forwards in the small cabin, fists pressing into his temples. “Can’t shut them out,” he groaned. “Shush, babies, I know, I know! Stop hurting them!”

Sam winced as Penman staggered, and one foot came dangerously close to tramping on his head. 

“Tell me, Roy,” he soothed. “Tell me what you can hear. I promise you, man, there’s just us in here but if you talk to me….”

When the other man drew his gun and aimed it at Sam’s head, he wished he’d kept quiet. “You brought it here, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Else how did it know where I was?”

Before it was as if Penman had forgotten Sam was there. Now Sam had his sole attention.

“I swear,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I didn’t tell anybody. We came here to find the witch, remember? The one that made that guy drive the school bus off the bridge. That’s why we’re here. You remember Bobby sending us here?”

Penman’s hand shook a little which wasn’t comforting when it held a gun pointing at him, but his conviction that Sam was some kind of threat seeming to be wavering as well. 

“Bobby. Yeah, I remember Bobby. He…he saved my life. He stopped it before it could get me too. You know Bobby?”

Sam knew it was too soon to be relieved. “Yeah. He’s kind of like my dad. He wouldn’t want you to hurt me, Roy. Why don’t you try to call him? He’ll vouch for me.”

Penman looked a little lost, like he had a million directions to choose from and no idea which was the safest route to pick. He pulled his cell from his pocket, and for a tantalising moment he transferred his focus from Sam to it.

Sam was tempted. It was risky, but he could sweep Penman’s legs and once he was on the floor, he could probably choke him out. But if Penman didn’t drop the gun, or got off a lucky shot, things would head even further south than they already were.

If Penman just phoned Bobby, Sam knew the older hunter could snap the guy out of whatever flashback or hallucination he was suffering, and then this would be over.

“How do I know,” Penman snarled suddenly, “that you haven’t got to him already? You tried that before with me, and I lost my family because of it. Lured us right out to a cabin like this, and you were there waiting and you massacred them. I haven’t forgotten it. No. No calling Bobby.”

He threw the phone at Sam, and it clipped the back of his head not far from where Penman had whacked him with the butt of his gun when he’d first flipped out.

Penman turned away, started to pace again, and Sam knew he had no other choice now. He hooked one long leg around both of Penman’s and that was enough to bring him down to his knees. Sam drove his foot into the man’s face with enough force to send him sprawling onto his back, and it was easy enough then to scissor his legs around Penman’s neck and just squeeze.

Penman wheezed and struggled, fingers clawing at Sam’s jeans. He still had the gun, but it was probably too hard to aim when he was losing consciousness. Sam kept the pressure up, watching the other man’s face go from deep red to purple to blue.

He didn’t want to kill him, but he had to be sure he was no longer a threat. 

When his struggles weakened to the point where Sam knew it was let go or finish him, he unhooked his legs and kicked Penman away from him. 

He turned onto his back, tugged his knees into his chest and managed to stretch his arms over his feet. With his hands in front of him, it was easier to get his knife and saw through the ropes.

Penman didn’t stir once, and when he was free Sam felt for a pulse.

There wasn’t one. He tried CPR for nearly fifteen minutes, but it was pretty clear he’d taken the guy out. Permanently.

Hurt, suddenly as exhausted as if he’d been fighting a room full of demons, Sam got his phone from his pocket, and dialled Bobby’s number.

::

Sam had helped Bobby deal with Penman’s body, burning it way out back of the scrap yard and then burying the remains under one of the old wrecks that littered the property.

He might have come close to killing him, but he was still a hunter, and Sam believed in taking care of their own.

Afterwards, Bobby poured them a couple of glasses of whiskey and sat down next to him on the porch.

“Dean’s heading back early,” he said. “Reckons maybe 3, 4 a.m. He’s pretty pissed. Mostly at me.”

Sam shook his head, not surprised but still hoping Dean would try to take a step back before he got himself all fired up. “Not like you knew he’d freak out because we found an old cabin. What happened to him, Bobby?”

Bobby drained his glass and set it down next to him. “I’d been tracking something in Arkansas. It was killing people, families, and every time it looked like they’d just let the damn thing in. Stumbled over Roy when it was about to kill him.

“His family had an old cabin in the hills, and he got a call from what he thought was his father, inviting him, the wife and the two kiddies over to stay for the weekend. They’d been going through a rough patch, he thought it’d help them fix things up. And the minute they walked through the door it was on them. Tore the wife apart first, then the little girls, and made him watch.”

Sam let out a breathy sigh. “I couldn’t get through to him. He thought I was it, or I was helping it, I don’t know. I tried, Bobby.”

Bobby nudged his shoulder. “Hell, son, I know that. I knew he wasn’t over it – you don’t just get over something like that – but I figured he had a hold on it. Didn’t think he’d have a trigger. But you’re still here, Sam, and that’s all that matters.”


End file.
